


Fantastic Beasts 2: Fuck You J.K. Rowling

by ElKlla



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Autistic Newt Scamander, Canon Rewrite, Fix It Fic, Gen, Graves Lives, Jewish Goldstein sisters, My First Work in This Fandom, None of the romantic relationships are the focus of the fic, Trans Tina Goldstein, basically i hated the second film and its choices, credence goes with newt at the end of the film, im not the best writer but neither was the second film so its fine, my first work ever, so im making it more to my taste
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:49:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26302213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElKlla/pseuds/ElKlla
Summary: After the battle with Grindlewald in the Subway, New York is scrambling to regain a sense of normality again. In the confusion, Newt smuggles Jacob (and his intact memories) out of America in his case. A Crimes of Grindelwald rewrite starting at Jacob's obliviation.
Relationships: Credence Barebone & Jacob Kowalski, Credence Barebone & Newt Scamander, Queenie Goldstein & Tina Goldstein, Queenie Goldstein/Jacob Kowalski, Tina Goldstein/Newt Scamander
Comments: 12
Kudos: 44





	1. Aftermath

It was the early hours of the morning in New York, dawn having broken around an hour ago, and destruction and chaos had torn the streets apart during the night. Not that anyone would know, looking at them now. As quickly as it had been destroyed, what had been damaged was restored. If one looked carefully enough, they might catch a glimpse of the cloaked figures standing high on rooftops and bridges. Guiding the last bolts and bits of rubble back into place as if nothing had happened. Everything was bathed in a soft haze of grey, and the rain was coming down in heavy sheets, washing away the half remembered panic and ash caught in the cobblestones. On a lonely street corner, the dreary weather perfectly suited the mood of four figures huddled under the shelter of a subway entrance; two men, two women. The stocky man in a worn grey suit took a steadying breath before smiling tearfully at his companions defeated expressions.

"Hey," he said "This is for the best, I was... I was never even supposed to be here." His voice started to crack. The woman in pink began to cry.

"I was never supposed to know any of this. Everybody knows Newt only kept me around..." He broke off, confused.

"Hey, Newt? Why did you keep me around?" The man in the blue coat, with a battered leather suitcase in hand - Newt - sniffed and looked towards the man’s shoulder. 

"Because I like you." He replied in a soft English accent. "Because you are my friend. And I will never forget how you helped me, Jacob."

"Oh." Jacob looked away as his eyes began to water. The woman in pink walked towards him, heels clicking against the tiled steps. Touching her hands to his lapels and looking in his eyes she smiled.

"I'll come with you! We'll go somewhere, we'll go anywhere." Her voice was melodic, but the smile faltered as her chin wobbled "See, I ain't never gonna find anyone like you." Jacob chuckled humourlessly, and waved his hand.

"There's loads like me, Queenie." 

"No! No there's only one like you." 

Jacob tried to smile at her, but only managed a grimace before he nodded and started to cry quietly. 

"I gotta go." He choked out. He turned slowly to face the deluge just centimetres in front of him. He wiped tears from his eyes and prepared to step into the rain.

"Jacob." Newt started forward and looked to the ground near Jacob's feet.

"It's okay, it's okay." Jacob reassured. Though it wasn't entirely clear if it was for their benefit or his own. Taking a breath he straightened his back, smoothed his collar and took a breath.

"It's just like waking up right?" 

He took another steadying breath and started to step forward, but Newt caught the edge of his sleeve. He stopped and turned back as the other man dropped his hand just as quickly as he had reached out.

Newt fidgeted with his suitcase for a moment. Opening and closing his mouth as he tried to find the words for what he wanted to say. 

"Do you need to be in New York?" He asked. Jacob blinked in confusion at the sudden change in topic. The woman in the grey wool coat frowned and shared a glance with her sister.

"Newt, what are you thinking?"

Newt shuffled and dropped his gaze to his feet.

"You... You want to open a bakery. Do you need to be in New York, or would someplace else be equally acceptable?" Jacob just stared, so Newt stumbled on through an explanation as in his mind a plan began to unfurl.

"You didn’t get the loan you wanted here, and I personally would quite like to keep you as a friend. So, could you perhaps, move somewhere that will not demand you erase your memories of magic, and open a bakery there? Somewhere that magefolk and muggles do not often interact, but aren't forcibly kept apart? Somewhere like... Like England?" 

Newt briefly looked up at his stunned companions, gaze flicking between them, hovering somewhere around their eyebrows before dropping to his hands. Jacob was nodding slowly, hope returning to his eyes, and Queenie was beginning to stand a little straighter, a more real smile touching her cheeks. Newt turned his body towards the woman in grey, eyes still downcast.

"Tina, is there any way you can get him papers, for migration? I can call in a favour for the English ones but he will need American permits too."

Tina, staring at Newt, hummed thoughtfully as she began to think over the details and forms she would need to acquire. She turned to the group, plan in place and spoke in a gentle, but clipped, tone;

"Mr. Scamander - Newt - can you apparate Mr. Kowalski home, pack his belongings and meet in front of the Woolworth building when you’re done? Queenie, talk to the no-maj department and see if you can get the right forms. Use whatever excuses you can, we need to do this quickly and quietly." Tina looked around; Queenie was visibly relieved that she might not have to say goodbye after all, and Newt was smiling, looking somewhere around her knees. Jacob looked bewildered, and increasingly happy at the change in plan. Tina couldn’t blame him, memory wipes were never an enticing prospect, and worse still when you knew they were coming. 

Newt shuffled forward, caught Jacobs sleeve for the second time that night, and with a crack of displaced air, vanished.

~0~

Less than a second later, following another loud pop of air, they appeared in a little apartment on the other side of the city. Newt steadying the other man as he stumbled, letting go as soon as he found his feet. 

Jacob took a deep breath as he looked around at the little set of rooms that had housed him since the end of the war. The cream coloured walls with cracks in the plaster. Basic wooden furniture. A simple screen set with glass, separating the bedroom from the kitchenette. He had always considered his apartment to be modest and cosy, but seeing it now, it just seemed small. So, so small. Made even smaller by the whole new world he had discovered barely 48 hours earlier. He didn't think he would miss it.

Opening drawers and emptying them of their contents, he began to pack. A few changes of clothes, toiletries, and a couple of sentimental family knick knacks. Jacob hadn't had many material possessions even before he accidentally unleashed half of Newts magical menagerie on the city. Now, between the erumpent that had escaped through the external wall, and the niffler raiding the cubby behind his grandmother's portrait, everything he owned fit into a small suitcase and backpack without the need for extension charms. While Newt saw to his creatures, he managed to finish packing in just under an hour. 

He gave his notice to his landlord, slipped it under their door, wrote a letter of resignation to the cannery he worked in - effective immediately - and that was it. Jacob's life in America was over. He had no family to inform, no one waiting on him to visit. No truly close friends to bid goodbye to. He had thrown himself into work, into the dream of his bakery so fully, that he hadn't realised just how lonely his life here had been. 

Standing in an apartment that was no longer his, in a country he was about to leave, next to a man he had known for less than two days, Jacob had never seen the future look so bright.

“Well.” He said. “Guess this is it. What’s the plan for England? I don’t have the money for a ticket this last minute, and forgive me for saying so, Newt but it doesn’t look like you do either.”

Newt smiled at the flooring, angling his body towards the man he had come to view as his closest friend. He glanced up towards Jacob’s neatly kept black hair and smiled a little wider, then set his case on the floor, opened the lid and gestured to it.

“You’re joking?” Newt just raised his eyebrows in return. Jacob huffed in disbelief “Oh, you’re not joking. Oh. Gee. Um. How well does it travel?”

“You won't notice external movement, I had to ensure the inside was perfectly still so none of my creatures get uncomfortable or motion sick.”

“Right, well, okay then.” 

Jacob took a step forward and slowly lowered himself into the case, as incredible and exciting as he found it, he still hadn’t quite gotten used to the way his foot just kept going when it should have hit the floor. Nor the strange squishing, stretching sensation of magic altering the space to accommodate his frame and the backpack he was still wearing, but the opening he was looking at not actually physically widening. Once he was down, Newt passed him down his own suitcase, told him to get comfortable, and shut the lid. 

After checking that the locks that had started the mess of the past two days were, in fact, closed properly; Newt lifted the case and apparated a couple of roads away from the Woolworth building. It was bitterly cold, and No-maj and magefolk alike were rushing to work in the mid morning light. Despite his breath fogging the air in front of him, Newt enjoyed walking. Crowds may not have been his cup of tea but he did like observing them, and the New York architecture was an impressive sight. 

As he walked, he noticed a curl of smoke too dark to be natural floating just out of his peripheral vision, but when he stopped and turned to get a better look, it seemingly got caught in a sudden breeze and was whipped around the corner of an alleyway. He stood for a second, frowning after it thoughtfully, before continuing on his way. 

It didn’t take long before he reached MACUSA headquarters, Queenie a bright splash of pink against the grey stone, ignoring the appreciative looks from passers-by, and fiddling nervously with the edge of her gloves. She looked up when she noticed the familiar sensation of his mind among the sea of people around her, and stood on her tiptoes to catch a glimpse of him. She needn’t have bothered, even without the bright blue peacoat he stood a good 5 inches above most of those around him. He came to a stop beside her, his eyes to her shoes, satin Mary Janes in a soft pink still speckled with mud and ash from their skirmish with Credence and Grindelwald. She must have been busy to forget to cast a cleaning charm. He looked up to her and she smiled.

“Hey, Honey! Teenie is still working on the paperwork for last night, everyone’s mighty worried about Mr. Graves now we know Grindlewald had him. It’s all a mess in there.” She lead them towards a small no-maj cafe a few buildings down from the Woolworth. 

After ordering - black coffee for Queenie, breakfast tea for Newt - she pulled a sleek folder from her inner coat pocket and placed it on the slightly scuffed wooden table between them. It was tucked away in a corner, set with four small plush armchairs and a large plant that sheltered them from the rest of the room. It was ideal for discreetly talking, but Newt subtly cast muffling and disinclination charms just for good measure. They took a moment to enjoy the warmth of their drinks before Queenie began.

“I fished around for the right paperwork in the No-Maj department, thankfully everyone is so busy they didn’t even question why I wanted anything. Tina has filled in everything official, Jacob just needs to put in his details and everything should be fine. There’s a section for our paperwork, and some to take with him that will help him get the right papers when you get to England.”

Newt took the folder and opened his case, set on the chair beside him. 

“Jacob, your paperwork.” he whispered down. Queenie stifled a giggle, as a hand popped out and wiggled its fingers. Unphased, Newt gave it the folder and the hand retreated.

“DO YOU HAVE A PEN DOWN HERE” Jacob yelled, unaware that the pair could hear him just fine, and a few people in the cafe had startled and were looking about for the source of the sudden noise, heard even through the muffling charm. Newt gave his coat a quick pat down and went rifling through his inner pockets, finally finding a leaky black fountain pen and passing that down too. 

For the next ten minutes Queenie and Newt just sipped their drinks in companionable silence, enjoying the calm and beginning to feel the effects of staying up for well over 24 hours. Occasionally Newt passed little crumbs from the complimentary biscuits to Pickett the bowtruckle, who was hiding under his coat lapel. 

A little while later, the hand re-emerged from the depths of the case, rising triumphantly as if it wielded the sword Excalibur and not a folder of immigration paperwork. The pair set to work making sure nothing had been missed.

Queenie had just finished checking everything over when Tina stumbled in looking overworked and stressed. Grabbing herself a coffee she all but collapsed into the chair beside her sister and rattled off her report in the same no-nonsense way she approached everything. 

“The paperwork for the incident is all filled out; as far as MACUSA is aware, nothing and no one is left un-dealt with. I refuse to lie on an official report, but I’ve been quite vague about the specifics and with everything else going on right now, no one is going to go chasing down one no-maj. Mr. Kowalski…” she paused, “Jacob... Will be fine.”

Newt let go of some of the tension he didn’t realise he was carrying, and Queenie laughed a light, airy, relieved sounding thing. Tina allowed herself a soft smile.

“As for you Mr. Scamander; Madame Picquery wants to speak with you tomorrow morning, and you’ll need to be on a boat out of America by the afternoon. Until then, you’re more than welcome to rest a while at our apartment, it’s the least we can do after everything that’s happened, just please don’t try and escape out the window again.”

Newt looked up at her, meeting her eyes for the first time since the the execution chamber, and smiled. 

“I would greatly appreciate that Tina. And I'll warn you this time if I'm about to go running across the city.” 

A stray thought passed across the front of his mind, and Queenie looked at him, surprised. His eyes dropped to the table again. 

“Oh, Honey, you really think he might have survived all that?”

Knowing she was skimming along the edges of his thoughts, he brought the memories to the front of his mind; the wisp of black that fled the subway tunnels as they spoke with President Picquery, and the strange smoke from earlier that morning. The younger Goldstein sat up straighter as she saw them. Tina, who had been watching the silent interaction leant forward, brow creased and eyes wide.

Newt nodded carefully; “Yes, I believe…. Well, I think Credence is still alive. Obscurials are incredibly difficult to destroy, most of the cases we know of die of exhaustion, not external interference. Most magical attempts at stopping them tended to fail. Credence Barebone was far older than we even believed possible, and was far more powerful than any who came before him.” 

“If he really is alive, we should check the Second Salemers’ chapel. It’s an evil place, but it’s the only home he has ever known. After everything that happened last night, he would want somewhere familiar.”

With a course of action decided, and the chance of rest rapidly vanishing, they drained what was left of their drinks. Queenie wrapped her fur coat tightly around her body, Tina donned her grey felt hat, and Newt locked his case once more. Taking a moment to brace themselves against the bitter chill outside, the trio walked out of the coffee shop and headed in the direction of the Barebone's home.

~0~

Newt had never seen the Salemer chapel before it exploded, but the brief impression he gleaned from Mary Lou Barebone was of a woman who had no tolerance for anything she perceived as against her gods will. And while he was by no means a cowardly man, the urge to flee from what remained of the building was unnervingly strong. Years of abuse had sunk into the woodwork, until the very fabric of the building was so saturated that it began to ooze back out in a cloying, suffocating aura. Even the rubble held such an intense, hateful energy that it set his teeth on edge and put pressure on the space between his eyebrows.

Tina had known what to expect, but Queenie's natural legilimency nearly had her dropping to the ground at the pain that radiated from the woodwork. She gasped and stumbled, unable to get closer than they already were. The other two stopped, but she waved for them to continue on without her. 

The door, surprisingly, was still standing, and creaked ominously as it opened, neither Newt or Tina bothering to quiet the hinges. If Credence was here they wanted him to hear them coming, so he could decide for himself if he wanted to come out.

They moved forward slowly, careful to appear unthreatening, into the atrium of the chapel. Dust motes hung heavy in the air, splinters and beams of wood strewn across the floor. They paled as they caught sight of a hand peeking out from over the edge of the second level landing, spotlit by a shaft of light coming through what remained of the roof. The walls had been blown out, skeletal remains that left only the impression of the church it had once been. Arches that had once supported the structure now jutted out like the ribcage of a decaying corpse.

"Credence?" Tina called softly, stepping over a pile of rubble. Newt tensed at the sound, loud in the silence hanging over the area. There was no reply.

"Credence? Credence are you here?" Newts voice was gentle, but it still seemed to slice through the tenuous peace. A soft, susurrous sound moved behind them, and they turned to see a black sand-like substance fall from where it had been sat above an empty window frame to the side, and onto the ground. It began to thicken and gather, looking almost as if it were curdling, before it started to solidify and reveal the form of a rail thin boy with black hair. Dark brown eyes stared out at them from an angular face, hollow and intense. He was curled tightly into a ball, shivering, knees to his chest, and had pressed himself into a corner. Purple shadows stained his skin, ghastly pale and looking as though he was caught right between the options of fight and flight.

Newt set his case down softly as he could. Making himself appear smaller, he crouched, much like he had done in the subway earlier. Tina followed suit, and knelt a little ways behind him.

"Hello, Credence." He said quietly. "I believe we met earlier. My name is Newt, Newt Scamander. This is Tina Goldstein."

“Hey Credence.” Her voice was soft and calm, and a little bit sad.

Credence barely moved, but his head twitched in an imitation of a nod, and Newt recognised the silence for what it was. Credence was listening, and wasn't running. He kept his stance and voice as unthreatening as he could.

"We wanted to make sure you were okay. I saw you leave the tunnel, though I don't think anyone else did, and we wanted to check on you. I also wanted to tell you I'm leaving America tomorrow, and to offer you a chance to come with me."

He paused and waited for a reaction. It shouldn't have been possible, but Credence tensed even further. However he wasn't frowning, he was still corporeal, and showed no signs of running. So Newt continued on;

"I am a magizoologist. I work with, and care for magical creatures and know how to move them unnoticed across countries." 

Tina quite purposefully stopped listening at this point and looked away. What she didn't know, she didn't have to arrest him for.

"If you would like, and only if you would like, you can come with me, and start a new life somewhere else. I myself am going to England first, but I travel a lot, and I would be happy to help you get anywhere you might like?"

Newt studied the boy in front of him; he hadn't moved from his corner, and was still watching their every move intently, but his shoulders had dropped from his ears to his chin, and his knees had lowered.

"What do you think, Credence? Would you like to come with me?"

Credence blinked. And his thick eyebrows furrowed. He spoke in a voice so soft that Newt had to strain slightly to hear.

"You said you knew a girl. Like me."

"I did, her name was Aamira. She was eight years old."

"What happened to her."

"She died. I was too late to help her. But I would like to help you, if you will let me."

"How." Credence looked accusingly at him. Newt didn't blame him for wanting more information. The abuse he must have endured was too horrific to contemplate.

"The obscurus consumed her magic. It left her exhausted and worn thin, and her heart failed. She was already fading, so I tried to remove the obscurus in the hope that it would give her a chance. But she died before I managed to."

"Obscurus?" 

"The name given to the black mass you become when angry, or upset. An Obscurial is formed when a child with magic is abused into suppressing their gifts. That suppressed magic becomes a parasite that unleashes itself when the host experiences heightened emotions. It usually kills the host before they reach the age of ten."

Credence had stilled again, his eyes flicked between Newt and Tina.

"A child with magic?" He asked. "I had magic?"

"Unless I am very much mistaken, I believe you still do."

"Mr. Graves said I had no magic. That he could smell it on me."

"Ah. Right. Yes. Well…" Newt rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. Tugging on the locks of hair at the nape of his neck. 

"It would seem that Mr. Graves was not actually himself, but a dark wizard using his face, who was trying to harness the obscurus inside you to use as a weapon. I don’t know how much of the interaction you saw after the aurors arrived, but the pale man with the white hair is called Grindelwald, and he had been trying to spy on the American magical government. Don’t worry he’s been taken into custody and is likely facing jail time for life."

Tina rolled her eyes skyward at Newt's awkward explanation. He had been doing so well and for him to suddenly lose all of that tact and eloquence was infuriating. Credence looked confused and a little ill, and opened his mouth as if he were about to ask more questions when there was a sudden knock on Newt's suitcase lid. Everyone turned to stare at the innocuous item. The knock sounded again.

Newt looked to Tina, he had found her to be a good judge of situations. She shrugged lightly, so he reached for the latch. The lid sprung open with a click and Jacob's round face popped into view, talking rapidly.

"Newt, sorry, Dougal's trying to tell me something I think, but I don't speak monkey and he's getting really frustrated. Please come and sort it out before he feeds me to those red tentacle horses?"

Newt blinked, as all the information given sunk in, before nodding and standing. Jacob looked incredibly relieved before disappearing back into the case to make room for Newt to come down. 

"Is that how you move things?"

Newt turned to Credence, who had moved forward from his corner and looked fascinated. 

"Yes, would you like to see the inside?" 

Credence glanced to Tina, who smiled warmly, and he nodded. Slowly, and seemingly painfully, he wobbled to his feet and edged over to the case. But before he could step in Tina spoke up. Her voice was gentle, and her smile soft.

"It's almost 2 o'clock, and none of us have slept yet. And I don’t think you have either, Credence. If you stay in the case, I can carry it back to my apartment. We can all get some rest and have a late lunch there. How does that sound?"

The last part was directed to Credence, as frankly Newt didn’t have a choice in the matter. But it was important for Credence to feel at least a little in control of the situation, and that he had options.

The young man gnawed nervously on his lip for a minute, before looking to Newt, then Tina, then the case, and nodding cautiously. Tina sighed in relief and could see Newt's shoulders sagging just slightly with the same feeling. Credence climbed into the case, followed close behind by Newt, and Tina snapped the lid shut on them. 

Checking the locks briefly, she stood and exited the chapel, walking to the wall her sister was leaning against. Queenie lightly brushed over her memories of the interaction and beamed. 

Giving an exhausted smile in return, Tina held out her arm, and they apparated away.


	2. In The Case

Inside the case, Credence was in awe. The only home he had ever known was loveless and cold, and what little he had seen of magic up until that moment had been violent and impersonal. But Newt's case had a cosy little room inside it packed full of books and plants, and it smelled like lemongrass and tea. Cages of all shapes and sizes lined the ceiling, all of them empty, and there was a gap for the case lid like a trapdoor. Everything was in shades of earthy brown, and lit with soft yellow candlelight. It oozed warmth and comfort. Gardening tools, strange equipment, and large syringes and knives were strewn over every surface. Pens and spilt ink cluttered what little space was free. Drawers hung open, bits of burlap, paper, and fabric peeking out. There was a long, rickety step-ladder reaching the high ceiling, which Newt was currently descending, blue coat swishing.

He jumped over the last few rungs on the ladder as Credence stared at the research and illustrations pinned to the walls. Moving past apologetically, and careful not to touch the younger man, he reached for his desk and started opening even more drawers as he searched for his first aid kit. 

"Oh they took my sneakoscope without telling me, I’m fairly certain that’s illegal. How rude. Do you have any injuries that need dealing with, Credence?" He asked. Credence shook his head. He was tired, and ached awfully, but he wasn’t injured.

Jacob had gone unnoticed in the younger man’s surveying of the case. Turning to the wonderstruck obscurial, he took in his gaunt appearance and hunched posture. The others had filled him in on the backstory and explained their plan to him earlier, and looking at him now, he could see why they were worried. But he smiled and shuffled over to the kid;

"Ah, you must be Credence, nice to meet ya’, name's Jacob. I'm glad you're here we could use the help out back for a second."

They didn't actually need the help. Jacob himself didn't know the first thing about helping out in the case. Newt was perfectly capable of feeding and caring for all the creatures on his own, and had been doing so for years. And had, in fact, organised or automated so many of the chores that the whole place was mostly self sufficient.

He was more than able to sort out whatever had Dougal worried, but he knew that Credence needed a friendly hand and introduction to his portable veterinary clinic, and that busywork was an excellent way to keep one's mind off of an unpleasant situation. He knew that there wasn't anyone better suited to showing the young obscurial some much needed kindness than Jacob.

Credence stared at the portly man;

“Are you magic too?” He asked. Jacob laughed.

“Naw, I’m as normal as they come. Newt just keeps me around as an extra set of hands.” He joked, Newt made an indignant sound.

“Now you know that is not true, Jacob. You are my friend, and I like your company.”

Jacob flushed at the praise, and rubbed the back of his neck, chuckling slightly. 

“Well... Either way, no, no I’m not magic.”

“You said out back. You needed help out back.”

“Ah yeah, yeah I did, hang on.” Jacob shuffled past Newt and to a door Credence hadn’t noticed before now. It seemed to blend in with the wood of the walls around it. 

“Dougal’s been kicking up a fuss about something and I can’t make head nor tail of it, and that glowy squid thing wants feeding.” Jacob pushed the door open and a light breeze wafted in, rustling the papers on the walls, and bringing in the scent of mown grass, manure, and beast. Blinking in the sudden light, Credence started forward, looking around in undisguised excitement. He had never seen anything like this before. Even without magic he had never been allowed to visit the Zoo, his mother had always thought recreational activities bred sin and laziness. But this, this was everything he had hoped he could one day escape to and more. 

There wasn’t an end to the case that he could see. It stretched on and on, and he could feel a light tingle humming in the air and brushing at his cheeks that he could only assume was the magic keeping this place possible. An empty enclosure filled with red sand and a large rock was sat right outside the doorway, and he looked back to see the cosy room he had been in was nothing more than a little ramshackle shed, leaning heavily to one side. 

A small greenhouse sat low to the ground to his right, though he didn’t recognise any of the plants within. A soft blue glow emanated from behind the shed, and he turned to see a dark enclosure filled with glowing plants and bioluminescent creatures. An enormous dung beetle lumbered past him towards a bamboo filled forest, and he caught sight of a huge dusty plain to his left. He couldn’t see what was held within it, though he could hear thundering hoof-beats in the distance. 

Stacks of wooden crates were dotted around the space, and patches of tall grass grew sporadically across the pathway connecting the habitats, smaller creatures roaming freely among them. A small blue insectoid creature buzzed by his head, the whine of its wings startling him.

Jacob walked a little ahead, Newt keeping pace with ease. Credence knew, in that moment, that he was going to go with Newt even if he had to stowaway in this case and never leave. Newt, unaware of Credence’s new found resolve, seemed to be arguing with a barrel of water. Jacob looked between the barrel and Newt like he was watching a tennis match.

“No Dougal I’m not leaving you all…. No Jacob is not my replacement. I wouldn’t do that to you all….. Yes, I know the aurors breaking in was stressful, I’m sorry that that happened….. No, oh Dougal, no, Jacob isn’t leaving either I know everyone is fond of him, I am too.”

Credence edged forward curiously, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever the tall man was talking to. He thought he saw a slight shimmer, like the air above a road on a particularly hot day, before bright, round, amber eyes appeared out of nowhere. He stumbled back as Newt realised Credence had no idea what was happening. He looked towards the obscurials feet and made an apologetic noise;

“Credence, I’m so sorry, this is Dougal my Demiguise. He tends to prefer to stay invisible, they’re poached in the wild for their fur. He helps oversee the other inhabitants of the case whenever I’m not here. Dougal, this is Credence. He might be staying with us for a while so I would like you and the others to be kind to him, please.” 

The air around the eyes shimmered, and a large, silver monkey came into view. The monkey, Dougal apparently, wandered forward and stared unblinkingly up at Credence, who could do nothing but stare back. It came up to his waist, and held its hands clasped by its chest, as if nervous. The silent surveillance continued for about a minute, before Dougal nodded approvingly and swung himself up onto the young man’s shoulder and started to pick through his hair. 

Newt smiled happily and straightened up, removed his blue peacoat and swung it over the nearbest stack of boxes, a disgruntled little green face popped out of the garment. Newt apologised to the twig-like being - Pickett, it turned out - and sat it in his hair.

For some reason the sight of him without the distinctive item of clothing was a little unnerving for Credence, though the yellow of his waistcoat beneath did set off the red hues in his hair. He rolled up his shirtsleeves and loaded a few items into a wheelbarrow that sat nearby. 

“Now, most everyone doesn’t need to be fed for a while, but Phillip - the marmite - is still a baby and needs more nutrition than the others, I hand reared him so he is a lot more fussy than he should be; refuses to eat without his mum. The occamies are also going to need feeding…. Jacob, could you please take Credence and show him how to do that? Credence, you don’t have anything shiny on you do you? Charlie, my niffler, has his den close to the occamy habitat and is, quite frankly, a terror.”

Credence shook his head, bewildered. He had no idea what a Niffly was, or an Ockmee for that matter, but mother had never let him have items of any monetary value. She had always considered living humbly to be an act of worship, and that valuables were merely a way to let greed into a person’s heart. 

Dougal climbed down from Credence’s head and waddled off deeper into the case, Newt trundled off in the direction of the blue habitat, pushing the wheelbarrow, and Jacob picked up a jar off the pile of boxes Newt’s coat was thrown over. He beckoned cheerfully to Credence and set off towards the bamboo thicket. With nothing else to do, and filled with curiosity, he followed after.

Jacob led them to a small nest of woven bamboo shoots and unscrewed the lid of the jar. Almost immediately a chorus of chirping started up and Credence watched as lots of little beaked heads popped out over the lip of the nest, bobbing and snapping their beaks excitedly. Jacob grinned happily.

“Hey there little fellas, your Uncle Jacob’s here with lunch!” He turned to Credence and held out the jar, the obscurial realising it was filled with shiny beetles. He reached in carefully and picked one out. Jacob nodded at him and smiled in approval. Credence ducked his head, and gave a faint smile in return. 

“Okay, so what you’re gonna want to do is chuck it up in the air, just above their heads. Don’t worry too much about your aim, they’ll catch it. They’re nifty little things.”

Credence nodded again, and stepped forward. Five feathered faces immediately swiveled to focus on the bug in his hand with alarming intensity. He took a moment to study the occamies, they were like strange little snakes, covered in purple and green feathers with a silvery sheen instead of scales. They each had a little pair of iridescent wings, and two spindly black legs with clawed feet. Their faces were framed with a crown of longer feathers, their beaks were sharp, and had intelligent amber eyes with slit pupils. 

He steadied himself, and tossed the beetle as Jacob had instructed, two of the occamies shot from the nest, caught either end of the bug and ripped it in half, each one guzzling down their piece with delight. Jacob laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. Credence stilled. His hand was warm, heavy and comforting, it was a solid presence. He was surprised to find he didn’t mind it. Not like Graves-who-was-Not-Graves, who’s touch was icy cold and cloying, even when he so wanted it, or his mother’s which was cruel even when it wasn’t hurtful. 

They passed the better part of an hour tossing beetles to the occamies in companionable silence. Credence relaxing and smiling more as the time went by. Just as the two really started to feel the exhaustion of the past few days catch up with them, Newt reappeared, yawning. Apparently Tina had come to fetch them, an early dinner was waiting for them outside of the case, and she demanded that they ate something. 

Credence had expected the stony silence typical of family meals at the Barebone household, and was really quite surprised to step out of the case into a small, but warm apartment filled with laughter. Queenie had whipped up a warming meal of homemade soup and bread, the aroma of chicken broth filling the house and making everyone’s stomach grumble loudly as they sat to eat.

Dinner with the Goldstein’s, Newt, and Jacob quickly became one of Credence’s fondest memories. The four of them had clearly grown close over the events of the past few days, and Jacob had the table in stitches as he retold the events that had transpired while trying to recapture the Erumpent in the park. Queenie couldn’t take her eyes off of him, and every time she laughed Jacob grinned dopily for a few seconds. Newt had a dry, abstract sense of humour that perfectly complemented Jacob’s natural flair for story telling, and his occasional acerbic interjections as he smiled and kept his eyes on his bowl had Credence smiling genuinely for the first time in a very long while. 

Tina was kind, and kept filling his bowl whenever she thought it looked too empty, Queenie knew when to include him in conversation, and when to steer the others away when he got too overwhelmed. The afternoon began to wind down as everyone started to yawn, a chain reaction that had everyone chuckling as they cleared the table, Tina setting the plates to wash themselves in the sink. 

Newt took some of Queenie’s throw cushions down into the case with him, transfiguring them into slightly frilly, pink beds for Jacob and Credence to use. He also transfigured a couple of clean fabric pieces he found in the shed into nightclothes for them, and left to finish the last errands he had to do around the habitats. By the time he got back, Both Jacob and Credence had fallen into the beds, and were dead to the world, fast asleep. Splashing water on his face and quickly brushing his teeth, Newt followed their example, asleep the second his head hit the pillow.

~0~

The next day didn’t run quite as smoothly. Credence woke up at 5am exactly and upon not recognising where he was, rapidly sunk into a deep panic. Jacob woke at the sounds of his distress, and calmly tried to talk him through his breathing. Having been a soldier he knew well how to deal with shellshock and episodes like this. Even after they managed to calm him down, and Jacob fetched some cocoa to help with the after effects, Credence was withdrawn and shaky for the rest of the morning. 

Newt wasn’t doing much better. He hadn’t seen the point in telling anyone about the moments in the subway where Grindlewald had sent curse after curse at him, and his back and legs were littered with abrasions from where he was physically thrown across gravel and into brickwork. He had a few fractured ribs, all easily healed with a simple spell, and a little murtlap essence mixed into a paste of his own devising was enough to fix the physical wounds. But he still spent the morning feeling as if his skin was trying to crawl off of his body and working through bouts of crippling nausea so bad that upon returning from his meeting with the President, he had to stay in a darkened, soundproofed room in his case until the worst of the after-effects wore off. Curse damage wasn’t anything he hadn’t dealt with before, but it wasn’t something easily borne. Pickett kept him company, curled up on the pillow next to him.

With Newt out of commission, Jacob had to do the rounds in the case instead. Using a hastily written set of instructions, he and Credence muddled through well enough. He had hoped that it would pull the younger man out of his mind a little, and while the distraction and hard work of it did help, it wasn't quite enough to ease him fully.

Queenie spent the morning trying to pull together some new clothes for Credence before they left, determined to give the obscurial something good to remember America by and have as his own. She wove protective spells, durability charms and temperature regulation charms into every stitch, and then infused the fabric with a few calming spells, in the hope that it might help regulate his anxiety. By the end of her work, she was exhausted. Her magic was incredibly difficult to break once cast, but it took a lot out of her. She too had been woken up by Credence’s panic, as she had felt his mind start to scream out, and would have gone down herself before sensing that Jacob had everything under control. So she did what she could to help in other ways.

Tina had to go into work. She guided Newt to his meeting, after which Madame Picquery had reinstated her status as an auror, and it was all hands on deck to find Director Graves, or at the very least evidence of his demise. If that was not hard enough, then the addition of the general magical population of America's increased paranoia following Grindelwald's infiltration only served to hinder her work further.

By the time one o’clock rolled around, everyone was tired and grumpy. Made grumpier still by Newt’s fast approaching deadline to leave America, and subsequently Jacob and Credence’s. Tina gave the obscurial the apartment address and insisted that he write whenever he could. He promised very earnestly to do so and, as surprised as he was by owl-post, resolved to get his own feathered messenger as soon as he could. Newt did already have one, a rather bug-eyed and bedraggled scops, but they knew better than to think he would regularly remember to use the poor creature. 

Queenie and Jacob had a tearful goodbye, bittersweet but coloured brighter by the relief that this was more of a ‘see-you-soon’, than the permanent parting of ways it could have been. Jacob took her hands in his own, and promised that he would name a line of strudels after her. Queenie just laughed and told him she would have to visit to make sure they were up to her standards. Hugs were given, cheeks were kissed, and then Credence and Jacob were in the case and ready to make the trip to England. 

Tina walked Newt to the harbour, case handle held tightly in his hand. Crowds milled around them hurrying to board, looking like the little waves cresting against the side of the boat, streaming up the gangplanks. The smell of saltwater and damp air filled his senses, and the cold sea breeze tugged lightly at the black and yellow woolen scarf resting around his neck. He looked up at the passenger liner, shadowy and foreboding against the grey sky, and turned back to face Tina. She bounced once on the spot, and leaned forward slightly. He looked to her left shoulder, there was a stitch coming loose on her blazer lapel.

“It’s…. It’s been um…” He floundered for words, but Tina - wonderful Tina - seemed to know what he meant even without them.

“Hasn’t it?” Her smile grew wider, and he looked to her eyes, captivated. When they first met, she had been swamped in clothes that were intended to hide her away, recently demoted, and unsure in her own skin and mind. Now her hair was in loose waves about her cheeks, pinned away from her pale face, clothing comfortable and practical, and she stood straighter, taller. They stared at each other for a moment, each with a lot to say and no idea how to go about it.

“Listen, Newt…” Tina began “I wanted to thank you.”

“What on Earth for?” He asked, fidgeting slightly with the case, before his gaze caught on a strand of hair slightly out of place by her jaw.

“Well, you know, if you hadn’t said all of those nice things to Madame Picquery about me I wouldn’t be back on the investigative team now.”

“Well, I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have investigating me.” Immediately Newt winced. That had not sounded at all like he had meant it to. In fact that had sounded considerably worse than how he had intended. He scrunched his nose and affixed his glare to a particularly obnoxious cobblestone off to the side. Tina looked like she was trying very hard not to laugh.

“Well, just try to not need investigating for a bit?”

“Oh I will! No, it’s a quiet life for me from now on.” He joked, trying to stand like he had seen ministry officials do, in the hopes of appearing like the model citizen he had most definitely never been. She didn’t look at all convinced, and still seemed to want to laugh. That was more than okay though, he rather liked her laugh.

“Back to the Ministry, deliver my manuscript.”

“I’ll look out for it.” She promised. “Fantastic Beasts And Where To Find Them.” 

She smiled again, and Newt took in everything he could about her, trying to memorise every detail. Her eyes were a deep dark brown, and the light reflected off of them in a way that reminded him of something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. They were a very nice shape he thought. Her equally dark hair had many little flyaways escaping from it, though that one lock by her jaw was still the worst contender. 

“Does Leta Lestrange like to read?”

Blinking at the non-sequitur he could only stutter out a confused “who?” in response.

“The.. The girl whose picture you carry?” Tina spoke the words with weight, as though they carried a secret. Newt took a breath.

“I don’t really know what Leta likes these days.”

“Oh.” 

“People change. I’ve changed. I think? Maybe a little?” The ship horn sounded behind him and he glanced back at it. They were the last people on the dock, and a shiphand was staring at them. When he turned back around Tina had tears in her eyes.

“I’ll send you a copy of my book, if I may?” 

“I’d like that.”

He reached out and pushed the stray lock of hair back from her face, and turned away to the boat. It felt strangely like running away, so he doubled back, Tina was looking to the ground, hand to her cheek, he gathered all of the courage he had to ask her;

“I’m so sorry, how would you feel if I… If I gave you your copy in person?” He tried to look up, once, twice, before finally meeting her eyes. To his relief, Tina was looking back at him with something like fondness, a smile on her face and her wonderfully reflective eyes creasing at the corners.

“I’d like that” she laughed “Very much.” 

A weight he didn’t know he was holding lifted from his chest, and he turned back to the boat. His step was lighter, and his back straighter. 

Tina watched him walk up the gangplank, pause as if reconsidering something, or as though he had forgotten something that was important, and then taking the last few steps with a slight bounce. She let out a breath, feeling curiously hopeful, shoved her hands in her pockets, and left the harbour. She had work to do.


	3. I don’t do well in crowds

Four months later saw the three men living and cohabitating in London, England. Newt had been happy to let them move into his house, he had more than enough space to spare, and was actually quite glad for the company. He had never had friends before, and found living with humans that understood him for who he was - quirks and all - was just as easy as living with creatures. It was nice to come home to friends and warmth. Especially as the Ministry of Magic had decided that he was responsible for the events of New York and had revoked his international travel licence. Which he thought was really rather unfair and unecessary. But the others made it bearable and helped with his modest zoo whenever they could. He spent his days travelling up and down the country helping with animal issues, and finishing his book. The travel ban meant he couldn’t personally deliver it to Tina as he had wanted to, but he sent her a letter explaining, along with a proof copy. Which he had gilded in silver and embossed especially for her. She said she understood, and not to get in too much trouble while he was bored. 

When he got the letter holding his brother and Leta’s engagement announcement, he really didn’t know how to process it. Leta had been his only friend in school, and when she hadn’t spoken up at his expulsion hearing it had felt an awful lot like betrayal. He had known he would have to take the fall for her actions, anything the school would have done to him was far kinder than her father would have been to her. He knew that, and he was okay with it, but he had thought she would at least speak in his defense. But she hadn’t, and he had been expelled. 

Theseus knew the full story. He knew that Newt hadn’t actually done anything wrong that day, and the role Leta had played. And yet the two were getting married. His brother hadn’t ever mentioned that they were dating in any of his letters. That was the sort of thing you included in letters to family wasn’t it? Whether or not the person you were seeing was your younger brother’s ex-best friend who got them expelled from school and very nearly the wizarding world as a whole? 

Jacob had talked it through with him. He helped Newt work out what the tension in his jaw was, the ball of heat under his sternum, the tightness in between his shoulder blades. It was Jacob who helped him work out he was angry, and hurt that not only had they not told him, but that they only told him through a letter. It took him three days - and deep cleaning the platform by the kelpie habitat - to read the rest of the letter and find out he was asked to be the best man.

Jacob had used the solid silver occamy eggshells - gifted by Newt - as collateral for a loan from the bank. He bought up a small shop in Carnaby, and worked tirelessly to renovate it. Within a month of them arriving in the country, Kowalski’s Bakery was up and running, and the month following that saw it gain popularity and become renowned for its creative pastries; including Occamy Pretzels, Niffler raisin bread, and Goldstein Strudels. They sent a letter with a muggle picture of the three of them in the shop to Queenie, who had spent a full week spontaneously tearing up with pride and love whenever she thought of it. Jacob kept a framed (motionless) picture of her next to the one of his grandma above the cash register.

He was so unabashedly happy. He had everything he never thought he would have. An eccentric and compassionate best friend, a new family, the bakery of his dreams, and was in love with a beautiful woman who for some inexplicable reason seemed to love him back. Queenie wrote to him every week, her letters filled with little notes on things she had overheard, a recipe she had tried out that week, sketches for new dresses she had been thinking about. He kept every letter, neatly bound in a book Credence and had made for him. Newt had thought it was a good way for the young man to practice his delicate magic skills, by gently attaching every letter individually. It was one of Jacob’s most treasured possessions.

He didn’t know how to pay Newt back for the kindness he had shown him, he knew the other man didn’t think anything needed repaying, but that just made it all the more necessary. So until he could find a way to show Newt how much he appreciated everything that he had made possible, he would settle for being there for the magizoologist. To show him he wasn’t alone anymore, that he had friends he could turn to, and people who loved him for who he was, no need to change even a fraction of himself. Of course, Jacob didn’t realise that was all the repayment Newt could ever need, and meant more to him than words could express.

Credence had settled quite happily into life at the bakery. Jacob was happy to leave him baking and decorating throughout the day, trusting him to do what was needed, and overjoyed when the obscurial experimented a little. So far he had helped design two new products; Phoenix cookies made with nutmeg and ginger, and Billywig Bite Donuts filled with blueberry jam. Working at the bakery, giving something to people that could brighten their day, it felt like making reparations for everything that happened before, and that he wasn’t just taking from the two men that had welcomed him into their hodge-podge family. He liked working with his hands, creating something, and the now familiar motions of baking were soothing, and gave him something to focus on when his thoughts took a darker turn. 

Though even that had been happening less frequently now. When he had first arrived he had nightmares near nightly, he jumped at the slightest sound, and people merely brushing past him on the street set him on a downward spiral that left him embarrassed and distressed. He was wracked with guilt over his actions in New York, the death of his mother and sister. He still didn’t know what happened to Modesty. 

But with Jacob’s patient hand and unwavering kindness, the bakery to keep him busy, and the many habitats hidden away in the basement of Newt's house to escape to, he had managed to keep afloat more often than not. He still had bad days, and even worse days too, but he wasn’t drowning any more, and he wasn’t alone. Newt had made him a habitat of his own, soundproofed and filled with old ruins, that he could discorporate within and wreck when everything got too much. He sent letters to Tina and Queenie, under Jacobs' insistence, and found that he really enjoyed their advice and sense of humour. They felt like the sisters Modesty and Chastity could have been. He worked hard, and things were better.

Newt hadn't taken Credence into the wizarding parts of Britain yet, claiming that they were 'the most nerve-wracking experience he could possibly imagine' which made Credence wonder exactly what could possibly unnerve the older wizard so much, given that he regularly faced down poachers and smuggling rings in various places across the globe. But Newt knew that he needed a wand, and he was finally free to accompany the young obscurial to wherever it was that a person got one.

Which is how Credence found himself stood with Jacob and Newt in front of a rather lopsided and intimidating pub. It was an old building, exposed black cross beams marking it as maybe 400 years old. It was somehow both squat and looming, its frame curving over the pavement below, and the upper floors appeared to be one breeze away from falling onto any unfortunate passer by. The sign swinging ominously above the front window proclaiming it to be The Leaky Cauldron. Jacob was squinting, as if through a migraine, as he looked at the building. 

"Newt, not that I’m doubting you or anything, but are you sure this is the right place?"

"Quite sure."

"So, uh… why are we just standing here then?"

"I'm just… preparing myself. I don't do too well in crowds."

"Ah."

They stood for another minute before Newt seemed ready to go. He took a deep breath and loped forward, ducking slightly as he walked through the door, and Jacob and Credence followed close behind.

For once, Newt had actually been greatly understating when he used the term 'crowd'. Credence had never seen so many people crammed into a space so small before. Every time someone moved everyone else had to readjust themselves as well. The visual effect was something like a constantly heaving and ebbing sea. Everyone was shoulder to shoulder, knocking and touching the person beside you was unavoidable. Newt looked incredibly uncomfortable.

They squeezed through the mass of people, Credence clasping the edge of Jacob's sleeve so he didn't get left stranded. Jacob reached forward and took hold of Newt's coattails. Newt himself had his hand cupped over his breast pocket to protect his unseen companion from harm. It took 10 minutes to get from one side of the pub to another, though it felt like longer, and soon they were spat out of a back door and in front of a red brick wall. 

Newt let out a rush of air he didn't realise he was holding, and tapped his wand to a brick above the squat bin sat in the corner. The shifting, clatter as the wall opened up in front of them brought a wave of nostalgia with it, but he brushed it aside in favour of watching Jacob and Credence staring open mouthed as Diagon Alley was revealed to them.

He looked down and smiled. Their reactions to his world were always entertaining, magefolk had a tendency to lose their wonder when they hit school age, but those raised without magic never stopped loving every piece they saw.

He led them through the twisting street, buildings crooked and tilting in a charming manner that left one feeling a little seasick if they looked too long. Magical products were on display in every window, letting off little pops and fizzes to gain a passer-by's attention. He could hear Jacob's little gasps, occasionally accompanied by little laughs from Credence. 

It felt too soon when they reached Ollivanders. Its black facade loomed three stories tall, and seemed to be lurching forward in an arc over their heads. Jacob looked a little ill as he looked up at it, swaying on his feet from the wave vertigo washing over him. Newt pushed the door open, warped wood creaking. A tiny silver bell tinkled as they entered, the trio peering into the dusty, dimly lit shop. A single chair sat in the corner. Everything was panelled in dark wood, lit with gas lamps, and there were lots of strange long boxes in piles behind the counter. More of these boxes were lined up on what looked like repurposed bookshelves that kept reaching further and further back, far enough that they couldn’t see where the shop ended. Picket crawled from Newts pocket and looked around curiously, sensing the wood in the room. A sense of secrets and power hung in the air, and every breath Newt took set his tongue tingling with the static brush of collected magic. 

From somewhere within the stacks, a cough sounded, followed by the grating sound of a ladder sliding across the floor. An elderly man swung into view. He smiled at the visitors, pale eyes crinkling at the corners. He had a soft voice, though louder than Credence tended to be, and it was low, reverberating through the room like a plucked cello.

“Newton Scamander. It has been a while.”

“Hello Mr Ollivander, it’s good to see you.”

“And how has your wand been? I hope you haven’t damaged it, it was most unusual. Hornbeam and unicorn hair if I recall correctly, thirteen inches, with an inlay of fire crab shell. I was rather glad to hear Professor Dumbledore had kept them from breaking it.”

Jacobs eyebrows shot skyward. Credence cocked his head to the side slightly. Newt shuffled in his place, gaze dropping from the shelves behind Mr. Ollivander to the scuffed floorboards in front of him. Mention of his expulsion still invoked a tugging sensation in his diaphragm. 

“Yes… Yes, so was I. It’s still serving me well, thank you.”

“So if you are not here for yourself, then perhaps you should introduce the young man behind you?”

Credence stilled as Ollivander’s eyes flicked from Newt to stare at him. Newt cleared his throat and gestured for him to step forward. He did so, shoes squeaking slightly as they scuffed against the floor. Jacob came to stand beside him, silent but comforting. Mr. Ollivander put out his hand as if to shake, and upon Credence following suit, suddenly and gracefully moved into action, conjuring a silver tape measure and setting it to work measuring his arm length, finger length, skull circumference, his height, and all manner of things Newt still hadn’t worked out the relevance of. Credence looked particularly startled by the measuring of his nostrils. Ollivander prattled on as the measuring continued, looking at the results with a critical eye.

“Unicorn or dragon I believe would suit well for the core, but for the wood… Now not Hazel no, no… Perhaps? Here try this, Fir, twelve and a half inches, slightly springy.”

He grabbed a nearby box, handed a wand to the obscurial, and told him to wave it. But no sooner had Credence lifted his arm the wand was taken and Ollivander was shaking his head. Next was Hawthorn and dragon heartstring, also rejected. Cedar received the same treatment. 

“Interesting, interesting…. Now, how about this one, Willow, thirteen inches, unicorn hair, supple and springy flexibility.” 

He handed the wand to Credence. Newt watched as a few papers fluttered in the corner of the room as it was placed in his hand. Pickett peeked out from behind his coat lapel. Credence moved the wand lightly, and a soft silver light trailed in its wake. The younger man let out a choked sob, and Jacob moved to place an arm around his shoulders. Ollivander grinned. 

“Willow is a wonderful wood, especially for those inclined towards healing, and chooses only those with considerable potential. Paired with the unicorn core - don’t look at me like that Mr. Scamander all our wand core materials are ethically harvested you know that - it will serve you well.”

Credence was cradling the wand and staring at it, watery eyed. It was pale, almost white at the tapered end, and faded into a darker polished black at the handle, which twisted and curved into a hollow grip reminiscent of celtic knots. It was simple, but elegant. It looked as if it had been made for the young obscurial. 

And in a way, it had been. Newt made a mental note to set up a new room in his basement for spell practice and teaching. They left Ollivanders, Credence cradling his wand in his hands reverently, and they trailed from shop to shop. They stopped in all the basic supply shops, Newt doing his best to remember what was on the lists his school letters contained, and bought most of the school level books in Flourish and Blotts. If he was confined to England, then he was going to do something worthwhile with his time. And he could think of nothing more worthwhile than teaching Credence.

~0~

Tina knew she wasn't the memorable sister. Queenie was better with people, better at dressing herself, better at keeping up appearances. She used to be a little jealous of that. Nothing that would affect their relationship, nothing resentful, but a little jealous. Then she saw how her sister had to fight to be taken seriously, for anyone to see her as more than a pink and blonde accessory, and realised that if Queenie could weaponise what people thought of her, then she could certainly do the same. 

She learnt to blend in, to see the connections and details that others overlooked. She could easily follow suspects in the street, because they never saw her when they looked back. Both sisters were underestimated. Both knew how to work it to their advantage. And Tina worked hard.

She was intelligent. Not to say that Queenie wasn't, far from it, but Tina had the ability to memorise case files from one read through. She could recite any American law on demand, complete with its numerical reference. She could solve a tactical problem presented with ease, was a walking dictionary for dueling spells, and was quick at thinking on her feet. She had a passion for justice, the drive to see it carried out, and a strong moral compass to help her avoid the corruption so many others in her position fell to.

Sure people tended to find her strange and intimidating. Porpentina Esther Goldstien, as prickly and defensive as her name implied. And making close friends never really came easily to her. But if you ignored her clumsier side, soft spoken voice, and slightly temperamental nature, she was the perfect auror. 

It had hurt, when she had been demoted. She was certain that Mr. Graves had understood her need to protect the Barebone children. He had sent her to keep an eye on them after all. And yes she had been expecting disciplinary action of some kind - she had attacked a no-maj no matter the circumstances - but to be stripped of everything she had worked so hard for was a crushing blow. 

She should have seen through that hurt to recognise it for the uncharacteristic move it was. So after everything with Newt was wrapped up, she threw herself into finding Graves. Every lead turned up cold. All of her usual informants had nothing to report. And no progress was made for over a month. 

And then she thought to ask if anyone had checked his house. It had been searched lightly for dark magic traces when Gridlewald was arrested, but no deeper.

She led the search. Every spell and ward ever placed on the Directors house was picked apart, unravelled, and investigated. This was their last lead, their last chance to find him. 

Until finally, she noticed a small silver box on the mantelpiece with a strange mix of spells and charms buzzing around it. Undetectable extension charms, a couple of notice-me-nots, and a silencing spell. While the first two were odd, they werent unusual in an aurors house. It was the silencing spell that gave it away. 

The last time Tina had been somewhere created using extension charms, it had been Newt's case. A wonderful place full of warmth and light. This was nothing like the case.

When she ascended into the little box, it held a cold, dark room. And in the far corner lay Percival Graves.

~0~

Queenie heard everything. There had never been a person who was able to hide from her. She knew things about people that sometimes they didnt even know themselves. She had been the one to help Tina work through why her first name never fit, and helped her pick out a new one. The name may have been an inside joke to start with, a little play on her sisters prickly nature, but it slowly grew on the pair. Helping people was Queenie's favourite thing to do. And she loved that her gift made that easy. But to not be able to turn it off? Hearing everyones thoughts every hour of every day? She hated that.

She hated that she knew Mr. Shatterwell from the Obliviation Department had been cheating on his wife for 3 years, with a woman 23 years his junior, just because he could. She hated the catty remarks overheard from Auror Fellstrop whenever she walked by. And most of all, she hated that she knew how beautiful she was. 

She hated hearing every stray thought about what someone thought of her legs, or her neck, or her hands, her hair. She hated hearing people walk by her in the street and think disgusting things about her. She felt like one of those no-maj wireless radio machines, but stuck only receiving one channel and unable to turn it off.

When she was in her late teens she had tried dressing in drab clothing. Long, shapeless garments that hid her body and figure from view. Shades of grey that made her blend in to the crowd. She didn't bother doing anything with her hair in the mornings other than brush out the knots. But it didn't help. The thoughts never stopped, clothes never made a difference, all it did was make her miserable.

So she stopped dressing to blend in, and started to do it to make herself happy. She liked how her hair looked curled and bouncing by her cheekbones. Bright pinks made her happy. Fur was soft to the touch and was very good for running her fingers along when she was nervous. The thoughts never stopped, but she got better at not caring. 

It was partly why she liked Jacob so much. His kindness and honesty tasted like honeyed strawberries, and smelt of fresh pastries. Sure, his first thought had been of her beauty, how the lamplight shone against her skin. Accompanied with the vibrant red undertones of lust, and the light velveteen green of infatuation. But instead of the usual lewd images that often followed; his next thought was; "I have to know her favourite colour." It was endearing, and so refreshing she may as well have taken a dip in sparkling gillywater.

And then Grindelwald had happened, and Director Graves had been missing. And Queenie had started to wonder what might have happened had she just strayed a little too close to his office door even once in those two months an intruder sat behind them. If she might have been able to help. If she might have been able to stop it. 

She couldn't change the past but she could work to a better future. So during Tina's hunt for the director, she started taking coffee round the auror bullpen every morning. All aurors had basic Occlumency training. But no one could hide from their emotions, and everyone had a distinct mental signature. So she started skimming across the surface of everyone's minds for the smokey smell and taught, strained sensation that accompanied deception. For anything that didn't feel quite right. Anything that didn't belong.

Tina noticed what was happening, of course. They were sisters, how could she not have. But she didn't say anything. Didn't try to stop her. She had mentally brought up her worries about Queenie's health and how this new hobby might get her into trouble, but Queenie could see the pride like warm caramel in her sister's mind. So she continued.

And then Mr. Graves was found locked inside a box in his own house. Malnourished, tortured, dehydrated, and on death's doorstep. But alive. And the first thing Queenie did was visit him in hospital and familiarize herself with his mind.

She never looked too deep. No, she knew better than that. She just learnt how his mind felt in case anyone tried to follow Grindelwalds example. And when Graves woke up - angry and intent on bringing the extremist and his followers to justice - she told him everything. She hoped it would reassure him that he wouldn't go missing without anyone noticing ever again.

He offered her a job on the spot. Informant. A spy essentially. To report directly back to him anything that might be hints of Grindelwald’s influence. The man may have been imprisoned but he had many followers of his doctrine willing to do a lot to get on his good side. Her identity would be protected, and she would get a payrise and seven weeks training in what to look for. It was paranoid. Perhaps a little unorthodox, and just brushing the edges of illegal. But a war was coming, the auror department had already been breached once, and she made sure he knew that she wasn’t about to deal in blackmail. He was more than happy to agree to her terms. 

She had been working as a spy for three weeks when Grindelwald broke out of jail.

**Author's Note:**

> While Newt is written as autistic through this fic, autism as a diagnosis wasn’t coined until the 1940s, was only given to men, and only referred to what came to be known as schizophrenia later on. As FB is set around the 1920s/30s, Newt never refers to himself as autistic, and none of the other characters do either. However, he was written with it in mind, and is informed by my own experiences, and some of my friends experiences, with autism.
> 
> Dumbledore/Grindelwald as a romantic relationship won’t be touched on too heavily either, as a romantic relationship with the man who’s essentially wizard hitler isn’t something I can see Dumbledore freely admitting to. I do plan to introduce other LGBT+ characters into the story, but my plan for this fic is currently skeletal, and as I said in the tags romance is not the focus. Tina is trans and this will be referred to a few times within the story itself. But as i myself am agender, not a binary gender, trans or otherwise, please do feel free to let me know if anything could be done better. That goes for the rest of the fic too, feedback is always appreciated!
> 
> I hope you enjoy this fic, or that it at least brings a little entertainment!


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